


The Deeper The Grief

by shelny18



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Combeferre is God, Gen, LITERALLY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelny18/pseuds/shelny18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had taken him seven days to create the planet and now men were messing up his work. Combeferre was growing sick of watching humankind destroy themselves and so tries to change things, even coming down to Earth himself when things keep on going wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deeper The Grief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ApolloSupreme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApolloSupreme/gifts).



> Yet another request from Ash. Also a good way to spend a train journey.
> 
> Title comes from a quote from Crime And Punishment: “The darker the night, the brighter the stars; The deeper the grief, the closer is God!”

_It really wasn't fair_ , Combeferre mused as he studied the Earth. Something needed to be done about the humans. After all the work he'd put into the planet, he wasn't willing to let them destroy it so easily.

So he went down. He'd learnt his lesson last time and so erred on the side of caution, making sure the woman he was born to was married and staying ordinary for the most part. The only problem was the knife which ended his life before he was even twenty.

Combeferre wanted to scream when he rematerialised in heaven, his plans in tatters. Fuming he watched as brother turned on brother, watched them killing one another until the King was beheaded. He almost turned away and gave up then but something changed his mind.

A boy was born, one Combeferre had almost forgotten about in his despair about the human race and their wars. He was a beautiful boy, one who instantly drew the attention of others, and on top of that he was passionate. He wanted nothing more than to save the people from tyranny and so he tried. He spoke out, he fought, he bled for the people and his country. And in the end he died, alone and afraid, convinced that things were hopeless, that they would ever change.

But he'd tried and so Combeferre did the only thing he could. He brought him back. He gave him a second chance. A new country, a new family, but still the same revolutionary. And this time the boy came so, so close. He persuaded the people to rise, started the revolution he so desperately wanted to work, and then died in the first rain of arrows. Combeferre could do nothing but weep helplessly as the force of nature that was the uprising fell apart within minutes of their leader's death.

Again and again Combeferre brought him back, and every time the boy died painfully, never once accomplishing in his one wish.

So Combeferre made an important decision. He chose two families and brought the boy back one more time. Only this time he went down to Earth himself. For the third time Combeferre found himself being born into a human family.

He had forgotten just how tedious the first few years of life could be but he stuck with it, truly believing that with his help the boy would succeed. As soon as he was old enough he found him, befriended him, stuck by his side as the boy got them into trouble again and again. For the first time he learnt his name, listened when he ranted about injustice, barely stopping himself from laughing when Enjolras made his views on God known. How ironic they were from a man with a name that sounded like angel, a man who was best friends with God himself, the God Enjolras swore didn't exist.

Combeferre never once tried to take over, was quite happy to become second-in-command for the first time ever. The group of friends the two made gave Combeferre hope, real hope for the first time in a century, hope that something could finally change.

Not only that but he enjoyed their company. As their revolution started drawing nearer he realised he needed them to win for more than one reason. This was no longer just about making the world a better place. This was about friendship. He loved every member of their little group desperately and he couldn't bear to let them die.

But they all believed it would work and for a while so did he. Only one knew that the people wouldn't rise.

When the day came Combeferre wished he'd listened to him, wished he'd tried to stop them. Anything to save them.

The barricade fell, just as Grantaire had told them, and Combeferre was powerless to stop it. He watched as his friends died. Sobbed when Bahorel fell, screamed with rage and anguish as they all listened to Jehan's final words. When it came to his own death he wasn't afraid for himself but tried desperately to protect those he was with, shielding Joly's body with his own whilst stretching one hand out to Courfeyrac, as if that would work. The bullets ripped through him and the three died together. From his place in heaven Combeferre watched, unable to look away as Enjolras stood there, proud as ever and ready to meet his end. _I'm sorry,_ he wanted to say. _I'm sorry for putting you in this position over and over again. Forgive me._

Then, for the first time in a millennia, Combeferre was surprised. Grantaire, the man who knew nothing could ever change, who understood a truth that even God himself could not comprehend, staggered up the stairs and towards Enjolras, announced himself as one of them, asked Enjolras for permission to die with him, for him. Combeferre couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face as Enjolras reached down and took the drunkard's hand and, for the first time in his many lives, didn't die alone.

The sound of the shots was still ringing when Combeferre made the decision. He could keep on trying, could bring the group back as a whole, find them a new time when the people might be more willing to listen to them, but he wasn't sure he could take watching them die again.

So he called them to him. He admitted all eight into heaven and went down to greet them personally, an honour his angels couldn't understand. They wept when they recognised him, hugged him hard as he explained everything. His eyes were locked with Enjolras's as he spoke and the message in them begged for the blonde's forgiveness. Fingers still tangled firmly with Grantaire's Enjolras nodded once and Combeferre at once felt his heart lift.

The Amis by his side Combeferre did the one thing he'd sworn never to do and turned his back on humanity for a while. Every so often they managed to surprise him and threw out an Enjolras to try and save the world. Combeferre would simply wait for the day they succeeded and, until then, would cherish the first real friends he had ever had.


End file.
